


Fellowship of the Ring

by disillusionist9



Series: Choose Dare [67]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Creepy, Dark, F/F, First War with Voldemort, Marauders' Era, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-19 17:20:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8218913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disillusionist9/pseuds/disillusionist9
Summary: Drabble #71 of 100 | Walking alone in London at night is a dangerous risk when you're the Bearer of the Rings.





	

Dorcas carefully removed her rings and necklace before entering the Order meeting. She'd mistakenly burned Remus when she'd hugged him after Marlene's funeral and she didn't think her psyche could handle another round of watching his skin peel away from the flesh underneath. The soft clinking in her pocket of the jewelry matched the click of her boot heels as she walked down the foggy London street.

She kept her pace steady to attract as little attention as possible, her hair itching under her hat where it was growing back. The time for wailing was over, but Dorcas displayed her continued mourning over the loss of her rock, her joy, by cutting her hair away in a choppy and boyish mop. Without a Ministry job to be presentable for anymore, she didn't care what she looked like while working for various shop owners to clean up their storage rooms. She still heard plenty, and more, where she was.

Worrying at a lock of hair above her ear, Dorcas marched on with her eyes to the ground, but back straight. Static filled the air around her as she walked by hidden magical homes with charms not nearly as strong as her own, prickling her skin until the fine hairs all over her body stood on end.

The autumn couldn't decide if it were going to dissolve into cooler air, the last exhale of summer sweeping over the British Isles and forming a sense of suspended time. October was never this warm, and streets covered near constantly with fog added to the macabre atmosphere.

Dorcas's steps slowed as her eyes traveled upwards. She should have been to the safe house by now.

The silver in her threadbare coat pocket kept jingling though she wasn't moving. Her eyes scanned her surroundings quickly, barely able to make out the houses behind fences on the same side of the street where she walked. The homes on the opposite side were completely obscured by mist and the dark of night. Her breathing stuttered as the air thickened around her. When she tried to take another step, she could not.

Paltry strengthening and protection enchantments were charmed into the rings and necklaces currently not touching her skin, and as she tried to move her hand down from clutching her hair, she would have had an easier time moving through molasses.

Bright spots discolored her vision as she gasped for air, only pulling more of that suffocating fog into her lungs.

Glowing red eyes joined the white stars of asphyxiation, cutting through the fog before the pale glow of Voldemort's skin followed. His lip-less grin stretched over too-perfect teeth, wrapping around the syllables of her name like a cobra. "Dorcas Meadowes, welcome to Little Hangleton."

The nearly choked logical part of her brain screamed against the physical bindings and the absurdity of her transportation from London to a town she'd never heard of without being aware of it. Spires of a manor house picked up the moonlight, the only characteristic she could make out on the landscape before a cold hand gripped her neck, the other fishing into her pocket for the charms put in her care. Each ring seemed tawdry against the alabaster of the monster's fingers as they slipped down and magically adjusted to a new hand. He turned his hand this way and that, admiring how the pure metal accentuated the black rock atop another ring on his finger.

"I've need for another sacrifice," the man said, his voice muffled as though he were speaking to her through glass instead of only inches from her face. Each word pulled her further into darkness as her feet fluttered uselessly where Voldemort lifted her from the ground. "You'll do nicely. A prize, really, the bearer of the Order's rings."

Dorcas's grip on the wrist near her throat grew slack as she lost consciousness, and accepted what was to happen, if it meant she'd see Marlene again.


End file.
